the aforementioned skyline
neither drugs or sunglasses best
parking lot halogen in sharonville
men sleep in their cars
heads groggy groundhog
up as people pass
this cheap motel surrounded
the other motel rustles
behind the tree line
the waffle house gives way
to skyline chili, to fast food
and big box chains
without a compass
there are no bearings
just endless small towns
swallowed by a shadow city
how would I know south of here
american anarchism bloomed
how would I know
la belle riviere is a whisper trace
waffle house takes out the trash
street cats shake
out of a lilac bush
skinny and skittery
about to take over the night
there is a pound of cheddar in the plastic
to go bag of the aforementioned skyline
too lazy to head south
toward the clang
of the underground railroad
I eat in my room
with cigarettes and black mold
as a representative of wealth
I lay out a shredded trail
a dairy bar feast
a transient gift
a yellow orange supply
to sustain a brood of hungry meows
consider it an offering
a small good thing
something that may bring the rain on
while there’s still ohio to go
About the Author: Jason Baldinger is a poet and photographer from Pittsburgh, PA. He is the co-editor of Trailer Park Quarterly and co-runs The Odd-Month Reading Series. He’s penned fifteen books of poetry the newest of which include: A History of Backroads Misplaced: Selected Poems 2010-2020 (Kung Fu Treachery), American Aorta (OAC Books) and This Still Life (Kung Fu Treachery) with James Benger. His first book of photography, Lazarus, was just released. He has two ekphrastic collaborations (with poets Rebecca Schumejda and Robert Dean) forthcoming. His work has appeared across a wide variety of online sites and print journals. You can hear him read from various books on Bandcamp and on lps by The Gotobeds and Theremonster.
Image Credit: Carol M. Highsmith “Nightime view of the Cincinnati, Ohio, skyline” (2016). Public domain image courtesy of The Library of Congress
As It Ought To Be 